


The Man From SHIELD

by justmattycakes



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Michelle Jones, BAMF Ned Leeds, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Man from Uncle AU, Partners to Lovers, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:20:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justmattycakes/pseuds/justmattycakes
Summary: When Peter is enlisted to help SHIELD recover a stolen defense prototype, he’s joined by reformed hacker and con-man Ned ‘The Hobgoblin’ Leeds and the relentless Agent Michelle Jones, a CIA operative who is less than thrilled about masquerading as his fiance for the mission. As an unexpected turn puts their fake relationship to the test, Peter finds that the feelings he's developing are quite real.- OR -The (loosely adapted) Spideychelle Man From UNCLE AU you didn't know you needed
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 16
Kudos: 45





	The Man From SHIELD

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seekrest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/gifts), [i-lovethatforme (Jsscshvlr)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jsscshvlr/gifts).



> I'd like to wish Seek & Jess a very (belated) Happy Birthday! It is such a joy to be in the Spideychelle fandom with you - you each make it a very special place! I hope you enjoy my MFU-inspired fake dating spy AU!

Peter

Peter leaned back, adjusting his seat ever so slightly and hoping he didn’t wake the kid behind him who’d kicked his chair for the first two hours of the flight. He rarely enjoyed flying, at least on a commercial jet, but he was looking forward to this last minute forced vacation.

Well, a vacation from Spider-Man things, not an _actual_ vacation. At least it was Venice.

Beside him sat Ned Leeds, the SHIELD operative who had briefed him on the mission and brought along Commander Fury’s orders. If they could even be called orders.

From what Peter could gather, he'd been shoehorned into this mission all because he went to college with Flash Thompson, heir to his father's shipping empire and apparently a criminal mastermind involved in the theft of US government secrets.

Ned seemed like a nice enough guy, especially for a Fed. Somehow Fury’s strict regime hadn’t crushed the joy and sense of humor from his demeanor, or maybe he was just new. Either way, Peter liked him immediately.

“My headphone jack isn’t working now,” Ned complained, adjusting the connection and tapping rapidly at the volume buttons. “You can just finish the movie without me, I’ll rent it when we get to the hotel.”

“No, it’s fine, I’ve got this,” Peter said, pausing his own screen and unbuckling his seatbelt. He took his carry-on from the overhead bin and fished around until he found his headphone connector. As he stowed his bag again, he felt someone’s eyes on him — and the stretch of skin left exposed as he lifted his bag.

Peter turned and caught a woman’s eye for a moment, but she glanced away, a small tinge of pink on her cheeks. He smiled to himself and sat down, handing the headphone connector to Ned.

“There, now you can watch on my screen and we’ll share the audio. See? Problem solved.”

“And a bigger problem found,” Ned hissed, holding up a tiny piece of tech and turning it over in his fingers. “Someone’s been tracking you. This was on your shirt collar.” He dropped the device in Peter’s cup of ginger ale and watched it fizz as it sunk to the bottom.

“I was going to finish that,” Peter pouted, swirling the soda around before stacking it inside Ned’s empty cup.

“Then ask for more,” Ned said, pointing to the flight attendant call button. “Aren’t you worried that someone is tracking you?”

“Weren’t you tracking me, too? It’s probably just SHIELD, or Stark. Or both, more likely.” Peter shrugged and reached up to hit the call button. He stole a quick glance at the woman and found her watching him again.

“What I _do_ care about,” he announced, “is getting the name of that woman who keeps looking over here. Do you think she’s into me?”

"Who?" Ned asked, scanning the seats. "And what happened to the American bachelors in Europe plan?"

"That's your plan — and she's seated in 17B. Think I've got a shot?"

"How can you see the seat number from here? Is she behind the woman in the red coat or… shit!" Ned said, ducking down quickly and trying to hide behind Peter. "I think I've been made!"

"What are you talking about? Made by who?"

"She's a spy — CIA, or at least she was when I last saw her. I'd bet good money that was who planted that tracker on you."

"Why would they be after me? Wouldn't they work _with_ SHIELD?"

"I don't know! This is my first mission, I haven't figured out all the interdepartmental politics yet! Shit, Fury is going to be so pissed at me."

" _Furious_ , even," Peter added, unable to help himself.

"Please don't," Ned said, clearly agitated. He sighed, his eyes flicking over to the other side of the plane. "I've got to level with you. The reason this is my first mission is because I'm what Fury calls a 'highly motivated recruit' — I've got a specialized skill set and enough federal charges to put me behind bars for two decades. But if I play by the rules, I help Uncle Sam beat the _real_ bad guys, and a lot of that can go away. Maybe all of it."

"What did you do?"

"This really isn't the best time," Ned complained, but Peter only stared him down. It was important.

"Okay, fine!" Ned said. "I hacked a few dozen corporate systems and stole five hundred million dollars, okay?"

Peter made a low whistle — a number like that would impress even Felicia, and nonviolent too. "And how is _17B_ involved?”

"I'm getting there. Once I had the money, I had to launder it so I could use it. Then there were officials to bribe and shell companies to layer the transactions, and eventually the operation snowballed and drew a little too much attention."

"That does tend to happen."

"I ended up running a few international schemes and Interpol caught my accountant and tipped the CIA, but _she_ was the one who finally hunted me down. She was completely obsessed with catching me — she's like a Terminator, she doesn't stop until it's over."

Peter snuck another glance at the woman and caught her watching again, but this time her gaze sent a thrill down his spine. "Not sure I'd mind being chased by her," he joked.

"You're not listening, she's got a death wish for me! What if she flipped sides? I heard a rumor she was trained as a Red Room assassin!"

"Why would the CIA hire a Russian assassin?"

"Haven't you ever heard of Black Widow? Look, Peter, these things might not make sense to a civilian, but I've got a trained SHIELD eye."

"How much field experience do you have again?" Peter asked, but Ned just ignored him.

"What if she ruins my mission on purpose? I've developed an expensive lifestyle, I can't go to federal prison! And Fury said I only get one strike!"

"That still doesn't explain why she would track me, though," Peter said, tapping his cup. Where was that flight attendant?

"Well, you're a top security clearance engineer for Stark Industries, and you just left the country without notice after someone stole a valuable prototype."

"Oh yeah," Peter said. There was that. "Can we explain it to her? If she’s CIA, won’t..."

“No!” Ned hissed. “Trust me, that's the last thing we want to try. I'm the SHIELD operative here, I'll handle the secrets."

" _First time_ SHIELD operative," Peter reminded him, but Ned just waved him away.

"We don't know for sure that she's the only player on this flight. Better to avoid her altogether if we can, we’ll get the drop on her as we leave and lose her on the way into the city."

"I don't know how much commercial air travel you did with your 'expensive lifestyle', but flying in coach usually means at least ten minutes to deplane. And it’s a packed flight."

"Don't worry about it," Ned winked, "I was an internationally wanted criminal for the better part of a decade, I've got a few tricks up my sleeve." He took out his phone and began tapping away, "Just keep your eyes on her and make sure she doesn't go anywhere. And don't let her know that you're watching her."

"Going to be a little hard for that, she's already watching us."

Peter tried to be nonchalant as he observed her, relying on his enhanced senses to keep track of her movements. It wasn't long until she stood, making her way toward the middle of the plane where she could cross to their side.

"She's coming over here," Peter whispered, nudging Ned.

"Shit, I didn't think she'd make a move so soon.”

"We're on a plane in full view of everyone, what's she going to do?"

“I don’t know and I don’t want to find out!” Ned said, frantically looking up and down the aisle.

The flight attendant chose that moment to arrive, reaching up and turning off the call button. “Hello sir, is there anything I can get you?” he asked, his eyes filled with a deep exhaustion that Peter understood. His name tag said Craig.

“Uh…” Peter began, his eyes flicking between Craig the flight attendant and Ned’s CIA rival, _17B_ , who had just approached. “I guess another ginger ale?”

“Our last round of beverage service will begin shortly, is that alright?”

“Sure, yeah, that sounds great,” Peter said. “Thank you.”

“Of course, sir,” said Craig, now shifting his gaze toward _17B_. “Is there anything I can do for you, ma’am?”

“No, I was just, uh…” she began, her eyes narrowed as she looked at Ned.

“Just stretching your legs?” He reached up and pointed to the lit seatbelt icon, tapping it loudly. “As you can see from this indicator, the captain has asked all passengers to remain seated with their seatbelts fastened until we’re through this turbulence. Do you need help finding your seat again?”

She looked daggers at the flight attendant, but eventually sighed, “That won’t be necessary.”

Craig only smiled, waiting until _17B_ had turned and made her way back toward the other side of the plane. He gave Peter a final look and rolled his eyes, heading back toward the kitchenette.

Once the turbulence had settled and the ‘fasten seatbelt’ icon was turned off, _17B_ was up from her seat and heading their way again. Peter watched her with apprehension, hoping he wouldn’t have to do anything to expose his secret. But luck must have been on their side, because at that moment the final beverage service began, forcing _17B_ to get stuck behind one of the slow-moving carts on either side, glaring as she slowly shuffled behind it.

“Should we do anything about this?” Peter asked. The way she was staring daggers at them, he was starting to think that Ned might be right about her.

“We’re only a few minutes out from initial descent,” Ned said, tapping through the channels on his monitor to find the flight tracker. “If we can hold out until then, we’ll be fine.”

“What about after we get out of the plane?”

“Just follow my lead, I’ve got a plan.”

Peter shrugged, leaning into the aisle to see if the bathrooms up ahead were free. Craig the flight attendant was two rows ahead, effectively blocking their path forward. At the other side of the plane, _17B_ had finally made it past her beverage cart and would round the corner any second now.

“Craig — do you mind pushing the cart past us? I need to get up to the bathroom,” Peter asked, pointing up ahead.

“Sure thing,” answered Craig, rolling the cart past their row and locking the wheels into place.

Peter and Ned slipped past and headed for the two open bathrooms. Behind them, _17B_ made a frustrated sound and doubled back, but Peter was too quick and locked the door before she could reach them.

He only needed to wait a few minutes before they’d be sent back to their seats, so Peter turned to the mirror and examined his reflection. He felt ridiculous. Peter Parker, hiding in a bathroom while an attractive woman desperately tried to talk to him. Or apprehend him. Whatever.

He ran some warm water over his hands in the tiny sink, combing his fingers through his hair to make it flop just so. Maybe it was all a misunderstanding, and she was flying into Venice too, so it didn’t hurt to keep his options open.

Peter flashed his reflection a bright smile, trying not to wince.

The captain’s voice crackled to life over the intercom and announced that they’d be landing shortly and had started their initial descent, directing all passengers to return to their seats for the rest of the flight. Peter took one last critical look at himself in the mirror before smoothing his shirt and unlocking the door.

Ned was already there, and _17B_ had grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, her face inches from his as she looked down at him.

“What the hell are _you_ doing here? Slipping the net again, already onto another scam? Start talking,” she demanded, her gaze flicking to Peter as he closed the bathroom door behind him.

“The bathroom’s open, ma’am,” Ned said, raising his voice and pretending to be surprised. “No need to get pushy.”

“Is there a problem?” asked Craig, leaning his head into the galley. “I need all of you to be seated so that I can get off this flight as soon as possible.” He turned to _17B_ , who’d let go of Ned but was still staring him down. “And if you are trying to start something _so help me god,_ I will call the air marshall. I will _not_ hesitate.”

With a final glance, she stalked back to her seat and Ned said thank you to Craig, putting on what Peter assumed was his ‘flustered traveler’ act. Ned then took out his phone and showed the flight attendant something, whispering quietly and pointing toward the exit.

“Of course, not a problem, sir,” answered Craig, and Ned smiled and went back to their row.

“What was that about?”

“I booked a connecting flight to Florence that boards when we land, so he’s going to call us to the front to get off first.”

“You bought plane tickets just to get off a flight first?”

“That and the Wi-Fi. They were the cheapest ones available and worth it for a head start — I’ll just expense it to SHIELD.”

Sure enough, once they’d landed and taxied to the gate, Craig announced all passengers needed to stay in their seats until those passengers with a connection to Florence deplaned. Peter and Ned grabbed their bags and headed to the front, watching as _17B_ stood and followed.

“You’re connecting to Florence as well?” Craig asked, blocking her way. “I’m going to need to see your boarding pass.”

“Are you telling me they’ve got boarding passes?” she demanded, pointing at them.

“I checked them myself. If you don’t have one, please have a seat until the captain has released us.”

Peter watched as she stalked back to her seat, her fists clenched in silent rage at her sides. Once she sat down, Craig reached for the intercom and announced that they were free to stand and begin deplaning. Peter followed Ned through the door, and they broke into a jog once they made it to the terminal.

“I have to admit, that was impressive,” Peter allowed, following the signs that led toward the rental cars. “Do you think she’ll try to go to Florence?”

“I doubt it. We might have bought some extra time if she goes to check, but she’s been chasing me long enough that she’ll probably see right through it. Oh, and before I forget,” Ned said, pulling a second phone out of his pocket, a mischievous smile on his face. “I picked this off her — should slow her down a little.”

“Even more impressive — when did you do that?”

“Right when you stepped out, she let her guard down,” Ned said as he tossed it into the base of a fountain display, the soft splash mixing with the sounds of water trickling over stone. “Now how about we see the City of Canals?”

* * *

Ned

Ned took a deep breath and adjusted the rearview mirror, eyes flicking all around for any sign of Agent Jones on his tail. The last few months had been a string of bad break after bad break, and he’d hoped a simple mission like ‘escort a civilian recruit on a flight to Italy’ would turn his luck around, but now he was in it worse than ever.

“Hey — do you know that agent’s name?” Peter asked, giving Ned a look. Ned didn’t like that tone of voice or the look of interest in Peter’s eyes.

“She’s trouble, dude, trust me,” Ned cautioned.

Peter was too nice a guy for someone like her: she was married to her job, completely obsessed, and she would stop at nothing to take a guy down. Definitely not relationship material, and if Ned’s guess was right, probably too serious for a simple hookup. Plus, she was out to get them, so that it was a bad idea went without saying.

“Fine,” Peter mumbled, leaning forward to fiddle with the radio, “she’s probably long gone, anyway.” After a few moments, he settled on a classical station and leaned back in his chair. “So what’s the next step? Dinner overlooking Piazza San Marco? Maybe a gondola tour?”

“It’s no Piazza San Marco, but the view from the hotel is nice, and I know my way around the kitchen. Commander Fury is already in the city, so he’ll meet with us to debrief for the mission tomorrow. After that, we’ll… ah shit!” Ned exclaimed, catching a blur down the road behind them. It was a long way off still, but that did little to calm his nerves.

Peter spun his head and squinted, eyes searching along the horizon. “Whoa, that’s her — and she’s got a motorcycle now! She’s like Sarah Connor!”

“Dude!” Ned said, giving Peter’s shoulder a light smack, “I already told you — she’s the Terminator! _I’m_ Sarah Connor here!”

“Then who am I? John Connor as a kid?” Peter asked, incredulous. “That’s bullshit.”

“If the hat fits,” Ned said, dropping his hat on Peter’s head. He shifted gears and slammed the accelerator, weaving in between the traffic with ease. Jones was fast, but he’d find a way to outrun her, he’d done it before. Just not every time.

What he was worried about were the police, or speed traps. Fury wanted him to keep a low profile, and starting a police chase definitely didn’t fit that description. If he’d had more time, he would’ve set up his radar jammer, but now it was stuck uselessly in his bag in the back seat.

“How’d she even find us? Another tracker?”

“Maybe, but there aren’t many roads into Venice and this is the fastest way. I doubt she’s seen us yet. If we can stay far enough ahead, we’ll be able to slip into the crowd. We just need to…”

But Ned was cut off by a wail of sirens as two sleek, blue _Polizia_ sedans swerved onto the road behind them.

“Shit,” Ned muttered, checking his mirrors. There was no chance of sneaking into Venice now, at least by car. He needed a new plan.

“Are you going to try to outrun them, too?” Peter asked, head whipping around.

“No, they’ll just radio ahead. Once we turn onto that bridge, we’ll be trapped. It’s time to improvise.”

Ned punched the gas, speeding ahead and cutting in front of a large truck. The driver blasted the horn at him, but Ned ignored it, watching carefully in his side mirror as the police raced to catch up. As they were about to come alongside him, Ned slammed on the brakes and spun the steering wheel, swerving just in time to make the turnaround exit that sent them back toward the airport. The police zoomed past, unable to get around the careening truck, but he knew it would be too much to hope that Agent Jones would fall for the trick as well.

“Keep an eye out for Jones,” Ned said, eyes flicking between the road and his phone as he cycled through his contacts.

“So you _do_ know her name,” Peter said.

“She testified against me, of course I know her name! We’ve got to focus, dude, this is not an ideal situation.”

Finally, Ned found the contact he was looking for and tapped it, holding the phone up to his ear. Giuseppe answered on the second ring.

 _“Giuseppe! Are you at the Marina, my friend? I’ve got a favor to ask,”_ Ned asked, shifting into Italian. He wedged his phone between his ear and shoulder so he could put both hands on the wheel.

_“My good friend, Ned. Always ‘dropping in’ on me and looking for a favor! You’re lucky, I was just about to take the old girl out. You know, my wife will be furious to know you didn’t stay for dinner.”_

_“Then my apology will include those Swiss chocolates she loves. I’ve got a tail on me, so have her ready, I’ll be there in five minutes.”_

_“Five minutes' notice, for an old retired captain like me? That apology better include a box of fine cigars if you don’t want to end up at the bottom of a canal,”_ Giuseppe laughed, and then the line went dead.

“She’s gaining,” Peter said, tapping his shoulder rapidly, “what’s the plan?”

“I already told you — to improvise,” Ned answered, angling down the offramp at the last second and exiting the motorway. He took the car down through small neighborhood streets, weaving in and out until he reached the road that led to the marina. There wasn’t a glimpse of Jones in the rearview mirror the entire time, and he breathed easy, but Peter was still tense beside him.

“I don’t think we lost her,” Peter said, peering along the side streets and toward the overhead pass. “But I don’t see her anywhere.”

“If we can just stay ahead for another minute, we’ll be on a boat and on our way to Venice. This is a private club, so she’ll need to double back to find another boat hire.”

The entrance to the marina was now in view, but beside him there was a sharp intake of breath as Peter hurriedly pointed behind them.

“No way — she just jumped the motorcycle off the overpass and landed on that building! Go faster, dude, she’s right behind us!”

“Told you,” Ned called out, “she’s a Terminator.” He gunned it through the marina entrance and nearly clipped a boat trailer as it backed out of a spot. They wove between the rows of parked boats and Ned slammed the car into park right in front of the entrance to the dock.

“Giuseppe will be at the last spot, go!” shouted Ned, grabbing his bag and abandoning the car behind him. A man in an orange vest blew a whistle at him, so Ned just threw his keys at him and yelled ‘sorry!’ as he ran.

“I hope she can’t run like she drives,” Peter said, keeping pace beside him and throwing a look over his shoulder.

“Bad news, she does,” Ned answered. He took a moment to glance back, watching as Agent Jones slid over the hood of his car, already at a dead sprint the moment her feet touched the ground.

Ahead, Giuseppe already had the motor running and the boat unmoored, and Ned almost stumbled as he landed in the back and the boat shot away from the dock.

Behind them, Jones skidded to a halt, the jump too far for even a robot killing machine, it seemed.

“I’ll get you, Leeds! You’ll be behind bars for the rest of your damn life!” she shouted, slamming her motorcycle helmet on the ground with a terrifying _crack_.

 _“Always the ladies' man,”_ Giuseppe joked, “ _you need to learn from me. Settle down and relax, there’s more to life than running from beautiful women. Eventually you must find one to catch you.”_

 _“I’m relaxing now,”_ Ned laughed, settling into the plush seating on his friend’s boat. “ _And she’s already caught me once, and not in the fun way.”_

Ned gave Giuseppe the name of their hotel, a small family-run affair that was currently under renovation, and they were soon skipping across the waves.

He missed this. The rush of wind in his ears and the thrill of the chase. Working with people he liked and traveling the world. Maybe he _could_ do this whole SHIELD operative thing long enough to wipe his record clean.

Commander Fury would find a way to get mad about the police activity and Agent Jones, but none of that was Ned’s fault. He’d brought Peter to Venice and was about to meet up with Fury, barring the slim — but non-zero — chance that Agent Jones could track them amongst the thousands of boats skimming the lagoon.

Ned sat lower in his seat, wondering if Jones was scanning them and determining their trajectory with her Terminator vision. If anyone could do it, she could.

Giuseppe saw Ned and laughed. “ _Don’t worry, our girl here doesn’t leave footprints,_ ” he said, patting the dash panel, “ _I will get you there quietly._ ” And he was true to his word, piloting the small boat expertly through the lagoon and into the canals.

It wasn’t long before Ned and Peter were waving goodbye to Giuseppe and checking into their hotel, stepping to the side as workers ferried materials back and forth for construction. Ned spoke with Luca at the front desk before carrying his bag up to the lone open suite on the third floor, which currently served as SHIELD's safe house for this mission. He was pleased to find a nice view and a stocked kitchen, even if the sound of hammering echoed throughout the building. Nothing a little music couldn’t fix.

Ned sent Peter to start the music while he pulled ingredients from the fridge, making a mental note to thank Luca for his excellent selection. There were succulent scallops, fresh lemons and capers, and a bottle of pinot gris from Luca’s cousin’s vineyard, as well as all the staples. There was even some freshly made pasta still dusted with flour and swirled in perfect spirals on a plate in the fridge.

“Is that Massive Attack?” asked Ned, the thumping beat reverberating from the speakers.

“Yeah, the _Mezzanine_ album.”

“Great choice!”

Ned set a pot of water to boil and found the nicest pan. He moved to the music as he diced onions and garlic, melting a generous pat of butter to sear the scallops. After pulling two glasses from the cupboard, Ned uncorked the wine and filled one each for Peter and himself.

“So, Stark Engineer living in the big city. Ever see any of those Avenger types?”

“Sometimes, from a distance,” Peter said, taking a large gulp from his glass. He didn’t elaborate.

He was probably nervous. Ned understood. Technically, it was his first mission too, but he’d been living this life for a while and it was part of who he was now. Poor guy, all the excitement from today was probably too much for Peter to handle all at once.

“You don’t have to worry about Agent Jones,” Ned said, adding the onions and garlic to the pan, along with some olive oil. “She’ll never find us in Venice, and Fury will be by soon to debrief us. It’s going to be fine.”

“I’m not worried,” Peter said, “not after that driving you were doing earlier. Hacker, secret agent, and chef, too? You’re a modern renaissance man.”

Ned laughed, flipping the scallops before adding the capers. It was nearly ready. “I like the sound of that; Ned Leeds, Renaissance Man — and in Italy, too. I don’t know if I really think of myself as a chef, though,” Ned lied, flattered. “I just like knowing how to do it myself, you know? It’s probably a control thing.”

“I understand,” Peter said, taking a seat at the small table by the window. “That’s how I feel about my engineering projects. My performance reviews always say ‘needs to learn to delegate tasks’, but it’s hard to let go. I just feel responsible for every aspect. Tony says I’ll go crazy if I try to micromanage everything. Maybe that’s why he built so many robots.”

“You work directly with Tony Stark?” Ned asked, draining the pasta and plating their meals.

“Yeah — there are a few high-profile projects I’m on. Nothing I can, uh, talk about, though.”

“I get it. You know, one of the first corporations I went after as a hacker was Stark Industries. I didn’t even do it for money, it was on a dare. It made me famous in the right circles, though. That’s when my alias first took off — The Hobgoblin.”

“You hacked SI?” Peter laughed. “What did you…” he began, but then his head snapped to the side, staring at the door.

Ned heard a key in the lock and turned. He really hoped Fury wouldn’t be pissed off. The guy never seemed to be in a good mood.

The door swung open with a dull thud as it hit the wall. Ned stood still in shock, watching as Agent Jones stepped into their room.

“Surprise, assholes,” she said.

Ned and Peter stared at each other. “What the f…”

* * *

Michelle

"So, let me get this straight. You wrecked the motorcycle — which was uninsured, might I add, caused an _incident_ with the Venetian police, lost track of your target, _and_ failed to contact command about any of this?"

"Sir, I…"

"Follow and observe, Jones, those were your orders," spat Sanders, her boss. "You were told specifically not to engage with the target. What the fuck happened to protocol? You know, I already put my neck on the line for you to get you a promotion and some leadership experience, and not two days later you shit the damn bed!"

"There were extenuating circumstances," Michelle ground out, clenching her fists. "Leeds — the Hobgoblin — he was with the target! If he's escaped and teamed up with a Stark engineer, he could be a major player in this..."

"Leeds didn't escape," said the man who'd identified himself as Commander Fury, Director of SHIELD. "He's with us, I recruited him for this mission. A mission that you'll be leading."

A mission she'd be leading? With _Leeds_?

"If you'd checked in with command after you landed, you would already know this," said Sanders, slapping his hand on the table to punctuate his words.

"I… I lost my phone. Leeds must've picked it off me on the plane, and I tried to pursue…"

Fury only laughed. "I'm glad to hear he's still got that light touch, he'll need it where he's going. And Parker, the Stark engineer, will work with you as well."

"Sir," Michelle began, appealing to her boss, "you can't be serious about giving Leeds classified information. He'll jeopardize the mission or flip when it's convenient, only to disappear for another six months. It's my professional opinion that we…"

"Jones, don't mistake my relative calm for leniency. This is not a discussion. You'll be reporting to Fury for the rest of this mission, and I consider you fully responsible for its success and that of your team. Show me you're leadership material and we can sweep all this unpleasantness under the rug — understood?"

"Understood, sir."

He stood and flooded his jacket over his forearm, nodding to Fury before heading to the door. Once her boss had left, Fury explained that Leeds and Parker were holed up at a SHIELD safe house not far from there, and that they could head over now.

Michelle nodded and grabbed the small gear bag that he offered her, flipping through the contents quickly to find her passport, cash in at least three different currencies, and a handgun. She checked the chamber and slipped the gun into the back of her pants, adjusting her jacket so that it covered it completely.

When they reached the safe house, Fury handed her a key and nodded toward the stairs. "Third floor, why don't you go in first and give these two a little shock?"

"It would be my pleasure," Michelle answered, taking the keys from Fury.

The look on their faces when she walked in was almost worth the trouble it had taken to get there. Almost.

"Surprise, assholes," she said, dropping the room key on the counter.

She walked past a surprised Leeds and sat at the table across from her target, Peter Parker, who somehow didn't seem quite as surprised as Leeds.

Fury was close behind her, and the click of the door lock brought Leeds and Parker back to the present.

"Commander Fury," managed Leeds, still holding two plates of pasta and… seared scallops? "What is, uh, what's _she_ doing here?"

" _She_ is your new commanding officer for this mission, Leeds. Now sit down and pay attention, I'm not running through this twice."

Fury set a raised disk on the counter before him, tapping his watch as a hologram sprung to life. The image of a briefcase fizzled into view, rotating in the air above them and opening to reveal a pair of aviator glasses. Inside the case were a series of hard drives.

"This is EDITH, a joint venture SI and SHIELD prototype that was stolen while in transit to a secured facility."

"Edith?" Leeds frowned.

"EDITH stands for…" Parker began to explain, but Fury cut him off with a look.

"What I care about is what it can _do_. EDITH taps into our global defense network satellites, interfacing with aerial assets for tactical deployment and coordination."

"What's that even mean?" asked Leeds. Across from her, Parker had quietly begun to eat his plate of pasta.

"It means they concentrated the collective firepower of Stark and SHIELD in a pair of boxy aviators and lost them," Michelle said.

Parker snorted, nearly choking on his pasta, but kept it down. But Fury wasn't so amused.

"As I said, it was stolen. Intelligence reports indicate that Eugene Thompson's criminal network is to blame for the theft."

"Wait," Parker interrupted Fury. "Flash is behind this? There's no way — I went to school with him! He's a showboat, not a criminal mastermind."

"He's also the heir to his family’s international shipping conglomerate and the de facto head of both the Guatemalan cartels through his father and the leading _coschi_ of the Cosa Nostra on his mother's side," Fury lectured. “With that type of international pull and a connection to EDITH's network, we could have a global incident on our hands."

"What's stopping him from using it now?" Michelle asked.

"There are biometric safeguards and extensive security protocols embedded within EDITH’s programming, but even the most powerful security can be broken eventually," explained Fury. "You'll must recover the prototype and destroy any copies or data on their systems. We can't let anything slip through the cracks. If we go in with guns loaded, they’ll scatter and we’ll lose our opportunity."

“And why am I here?” asked Parker, watching the wine in his glass as he swirled it.

Fury sighed. “We intercepted communications from Thompson inviting you to a private celebration of his anniversary with his wife Betty Brant, taking place tomorrow night in Venice. Your mission is to infiltrate this event, gain the target’s trust, and secure an invitation back to their private island and base of operations in the Mediterranean.”

“Flash invited me to his anniversary party?” Parker asked, surprised.

“We took the liberty of accepting the invitation — and reserving for a plus one.” At this, Fury gave Michelle a pointed look, and she felt her insides squirm. “Thompson will have tight security and a loyal cadre surrounding him. They’ll have their eyes peeled for anything suspicious, so you two need to be convincing.”

“Convincing of what?” Peter asked, but Michelle already knew.

“Sir, with all due respect, this mission directive is a fucking joke,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “Is this punishment for earlier today?”

“Care to elaborate, Agent Jones?” Fury asked, eye narrowed.

“You and Sanders said this was my case, so allow me to handle it — my way. I can infiltrate the island, recover the prototype, and destroy any backups on my own. This is insulting — playing babysitter for Stark’s intern is a waste of my time, and the Hobgoblin should be behind bars, not traipsing around Europe on a SHIELD expense account. This is a job for a seasoned professional, something neither of these two know a thing about.”

“You got me there,” answered Leeds, now sipping his own wine. Fury snatched the glass from him with a glare.

“The island has a closed network — we need Leeds on site to wipe any backups, and Parker is your ticket to the party and onto the island. Being invited in will get you past dozens of layers of security without arousing suspicion. If you can’t see the advantage in that, then you’re not the agent I thought you were, Jones.”

Her blood boiled at the accusation, but she had to admit, she needed Leeds. Preferably another person of his caliber, but this was what she had, so she’d make it work.

Plus, Parker wouldn’t be terrible to look at. She certainly hadn’t minded watching him earlier — for her mission to professionally observe him. The target.

“So, Parker and I are what? Friends? Dating?”

“Engaged,” said Fury, tossing a ring to her. She caught it, the metal heavy in her hand like a promise.

_Engaged?_

Michelle had hardly even dated since she graduated from the CIA's training program at Camp Peary and joined the agency ranks. It was difficult to form a connection with someone when she couldn’t talk about most of her life — not that she was ever really comfortable letting someone in.

“Where’s mine?” asked Parker, distracting her from the anxious feeling growing in her stomach. “If we’re engaged, I’d want everyone to know.”

Fury sighed, “Fine, you’ll have one tomorrow, it can double as your tracker.”

Peter reached his hand across the table, “Can I see it?”

Michelle handed him the ring, and Peter stared at it, turning it over with a critical eye. “I probably would have proposed with my mom’s ring, but to be honest, this one is a lot nicer. May I?”

She reached out, her heart beating so loudly that it was a wonder no one could hear it. His skin was warm against hers as he slipped the ring on her finger, his hands calloused like a worker’s hands. Like hers.

The moment became too much, and she pulled her hand back, the sense of his touch lingering. “I don’t… I can’t do this. I don’t have practice with this type of… civilian social, um… etiquette.”

“With dating?” asked Leeds, a smirk spreading across his face. “I would never have guessed, a total surprise.”

“How about you shut your mouth before I break your jaw?”

“Fact is, only one of us can charm our way onto that island and it isn’t you,” Leeds answered. “You need to do this.”

Michelle had half a mind to hit him, just for the moment of satisfaction that it would give her, but Parker leaned across the table, giving her his full attention. There was something so open in his eyes, so earnest, that she stilled.

“Hey, it’s okay, I don’t have much practice with dating either. We’ll just think of it as part of our disguise, alright?"

"A little arm candy never hurt anyone," joked Leeds, winking at Peter.

"Arm candy?" she asked, seething.

"I think he means me," Parker said, offering her a smile, his cheeks tinged with the smallest bit of pink. Was he blushing?

"Oh."

He turned his full attention to her again. His voice lowered like it was for her alone, and Michelle felt her stomach flip. "I don't actually know your name yet, other than Agent Jones."

"It's Michelle."

"Michelle," he repeated, and the sound of her name in his voice sent a thrill down her spine.

"Let's not get too comfortable with that," said Fury, handing Michelle and Leeds new passports.

Michelle took her own, grimacing at the photo they'd used for her picture. "Mary Jane Watson?"

"Nice to be engaged to you, Mary Jane, I'm Peter," he said, extending his hand to her.

She smiled as she took it, embarrassed by how much she was relishing the opportunity to touch him again. "You can call me MJ."


End file.
